


Of Hearth and Home

by erebones



Series: secrets to a good life [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, pet death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5818600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carver's beloved cat Peaches dies unexpectedly, and Felix helps him through the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Hearth and Home

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to post the next chapter of Secrets today, but last night I got the news that my parent's dog died unexpectedly from what they think was a heart attack. She was barely over a year old, and it's been very upsetting for all of us, so this is how I decided to deal with it. RIP Scout baby, I hope doggy heaven treats you well. You deserve it. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: pet death and the subsequent grief/mourning.

His phone is in the breast pocket of his suit jacket, so he doesn’t feel it vibrating until he’s shaking hands with Doctor Erasthenes and leaving his office for the last time, a complimentary copy of his bound thesis tucked under one arm. Felix pauses in the hallway and fishes it out, but it’s too late—he’s already missed it, and three other calls, all made in the last five minutes, all from the same person.

Carver.

Heart suddenly in his throat, tangling with his panicked lungs, he slams the _call back_ option and lifts his phone to his ear. It rings and rings, and just when he’s afraid it’s going to go to voicemail, Carver picks up.

“Fee?” His voice is shaky and muted, by distance and by emotion.

“What is it, what’s going on?”

“It’s Peaches.” Relief overwhelms him in an embarrassing rush, only to be drowned again by anxiety, and Carver laughs a little wetly on the other side. “I’m sorry, you probably thought something was seriously—” His voice breaks, and so does Felix’s heart. “She’s dead. I—I don’t know how. I thought she was acting funny when I got home from the Club, but I was sore and sweaty and I just wanted a shower and I—I should have just taken her to the vet, Fee. Why the _fuck_ didn’t I—”

“Carver. Love, listen to me, it isn’t your fault.” He’s already walking briskly to the end of the hall and the stairwell, which will lead him out into the overcast street and to his car; he talks over the thunk of his heels and the air rushing past the speaker, already fumbling for his keys. “We don’t even know how old she was, and you know she was starting to eat less and sleep more. It was probably just old age.”

Carver gives a shaky, staticky exhale. “This is so stupid, why am I… God. It’s not like she—she’s a _person_ , I mean, she’s just a cat for Christ’s sake.”

“A very special cat,” Felix says gently, shouldering open the door and clattering down the stairs. “Listen, I’m on my way home, all right? Do you want to take her to the vet?”

“What’s the point? She’s dead, there’s nothing they can do for her.”

“Maybe they can give you some peace of mind,” Felix coaxes. “I can meet you wherever you want, just tell me.”

A deep breath. “Dennet’s is around the corner. Um. Can you…”

“I’ll be there. I’m getting into my car right now, I can be there in twenty minutes. Do you want to see if Merrill’s home? She can maybe help you.”

“No, god, no I can’t do that, she’d be a mess.” A choked laugh. “I’m enough of a mess myself right now. Um, okay, I don’t have a cat carrier, she’s too big and we’ve never needed one, I’ve only ever carried her places because she’s so… she was so gentle, never fussed… I can’t—I can’t use a bag, Felix, what do I do?”

“In the linen closet upstairs, there’s that box the new microwave came in, I haven’t broken it down yet for recycling. There’s some other boxes in it but just dump them out, we can put them away later. Okay? Are you going to be all right, or do you want me to come straight home?”

“I… no, I’ll be fine. I’ve got it.” A pause and a slight sniff, and Felix starts the car. “Thanks.”

“I’ll see you at the vet’s, darling. All right? I love you.”

“I love you,” comes the subdued reply, and he ends the call.

Felix stares out the windshield blindly for a moment, exhaling long and slow. His heart isn’t racing quite so badly anymore, but his stomach is sitting like a heavy, cold weight in his gut, and he feels the abrasiveness of Carver’s grief like sandpaper on his skin. He’s always been a cat person, and he’s loved Peaches ever since he met her—first over a Skype chat almost two years ago now, and then in person, where she immediately claimed a preference for his lap whenever he made the mistake of sitting on Carver’s couch for longer than five minutes.

And then they got their own place, and Peaches became a more fixed part of his life. She enjoyed laying on the shower mat where it was warm from the vents and scaring the life out of him when he was done, or falling asleep on his feet when he was waiting for Carver to come back from a late night at the ’shop. In a word, she wasn’t just Carver’s anymore, she was _theirs_ , and he wasn’t even a little surprised when his eyes started to prick with tears halfway to Dennet’s.

When he arrives, Carver is sitting in the waiting area—which is really more of a parlor, as the entire veterinary is housed in what was once an elegant historical townhouse—with his head bowed and his arms braced on his knees. He looks up when Felix enters, face dry but eyes rimmed with red, and leans into his embrace like it’s a last resort. Felix lowers himself into the chair beside him and pushes his fingers into Carver’s hair, drawing his head down to rest against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, love.”

Carver just nods. A few minutes later, the vet tech comes out and perches on a chair across from them, setting a clipboard down in her lap. Felix recognizes her as Doctor Dennet’s daughter,  Seanna. She clears her throat softly. “It looks like Peaches had a heart attack, Mr. Hawke, which isn’t unusual for a cat of her age and size. When you first brought her to us we estimated she was about seven, which means she was around fourteen or fifteen years old when she passed, quite an impressive lifespan.”

Carver rubs his face briefly. “So it was natural causes, then? Nothing that could have been prevented?”

Seanna shakes her head. “I doubt it could have been prevented—even if the irregularity had been caught earlier, medication or surgery would have only lasted so long, considering her age. She lived a long and healthy life, Mr. Hawke, and with you it was a very happy one I’m sure.” She pauses, as if waiting for him to speak or break down, but he does neither, just sits and stares at the floor, clutching Felix’s hand like a lifeline. “You have some options for dealing with the body…”

“I’ll keep it—her,” Carver says bluntly. To Felix he says, “I’d like to bury her at Mum’s, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is. We can go right now.” He turns to Seanna. “Thank you so much for your help. I’ll take care of the bill now.”

“Fee, you don’t—”

“Shh, let me do this. Phone your mum, and I’ll settle things here. All right?”

Reluctantly, Carver subsides, and Felix kisses the back of his hand briefly before releasing him and following Seanna to the counter. While he fills out the cheque, Seanna enters some information into the computer and says, quietly, “If you’re interested, we do partner with many local shelters to provide rescue animals with forever homes. Not right away, of course, but it’s something to think about. When you’re ready.”

Felix glances at her and passes over the cheque. “Do you have any brochures?”

“Of course. Let me just slip some in with your paperwork.”

* * *

They bury Peaches under the wisteria tree in Leandra’s back yard. Bethany holds Carver’s hand and cries, and Leandra and Felix stand a little ways apart, silent, throats thick and arms around each other’s waists. Eventually the drizzle drives the women inside, and Felix approaches Carver silently, resting a hand against the small of his back. For the first time since they turned over the last shovelful of earth, he makes a sound—a long, quavering exhale that he can feel vibrating through his palm. Felix leans against him and kisses his shoulder, the nearest part he can reach.

“Seanna was right, you know. She lived a happy life, especially with you.”

Carver’s shoulders hunch, and he slips an arm around Felix’s waist; a few moments and it becomes a full embrace, with Felix on his toes and Carver’s face buried in his collar. If he cries, it’s silent—his body shakes, but he makes no sound, and eventually he pulls away and wipes a bit at his face before ducking down to kiss Felix’s temple.

“Thank you.”

Felix gives him one last squeeze. “What do you want to do?”

“I think Mum is making dinner for everyone. And then… I just want to go home.” He thumbs Felix’s eyebrow, wiping away some of the dampness left there by the heavy mist. “Is that all right?”

“Of course it is.” He turns his head and kisses Carver’s open palm. “Come on. Before you catch cold.”

* * *

The bed feels colder and emptier than usual that night. Felix is the big spoon for the first time in a while, and he wakes up a few times in the night when Carver gets restless, soothing him back to sleep with soft kisses at his nape and a hand on his chest. When morning comes, they’re both a bit heavy-headed, eyes dry and aching like they had too much to drink the night before. Felix busies himself with water and paracetamol and breakfast, and though they don’t feel much like eating, the normalcy is a comfort.

With time, the sting fades. They give their extra cat food and litter to a shelter, since none of their friends have cats, and the toys and bedding and homemade cat tower go in the attic loft. The summer is a busy one; Felix receives a new wave of acclaim with the publication of his thesis, and is invited to give several talks at universities in the UK and France. Mostly Carver stays in London, but sometimes he tags along, and they spend far too much time lounging around on nude beaches and getting drunk on their hotel balconies. And, of course, having ridiculous amounts of sex in their hotel beds, on their hotel hearth rugs, and in their hotel Jacuzzi bathtubs.

In the fall, when Felix makes noises about getting another cat, they peruse a few shelters but nothing seems to stick. “I guess I’m just not a cat person,” Carver sighs after one such attempt. “Peaches was a special case. If you want to pick one out I’d be happy to support you, but I can’t promise I’d get very attached.”

Felix loops their arms together, deciding not to mention how Carver’s eyes had lingered on the adoptable dogs on the other side of the shelter. “That’s all right. If we get a pet I would want it to be for both of us.”

“I agree,” Carver says, sounding relieved, and they don’t visit another shelter for quite some time.

* * *

Felix can’t believe he’s doing this. He’s such a fucking idiot. This isn’t something you do as a _surprise_ , it’s something you _talk about_ beforehand, something you research and discuss with your partner before taking the plunge. It’s not like buying a houseplant—it’s like having a baby, and he’s the one who’s going to be responsible for the consequences. But, god help him, those _eyes._

He looks over at the front seat, and the puppy’s big brown eyes stare back at him, dark and plaintive; the little whiskery eyebrows overhead twitch, and then she’s panting at him, little ropey tail flopping against the side of the box where she’s nestled with a pile of blankets. His heart melts and he stares back at the road.

“Carver’s going to kill me, but maybe you’ll be cute enough to sway him. Good grief, why did I let Dorian talk me into this?”

Not that he can blame _all_ of this on Dorian—Cullen had definitely had a hand in it. The puppy was technically his dog’s half-sister; they shared a parent, a breeding stud with a very long and glorious history of fathering healthy pups. Felix would be lying if he said he hadn’t had his eye on this particular litter, but actually _buying_ one of the puppies without consulting Carver is a whole new level of fuckup potential. He takes a deep breath and turns into the gated parking area that adjoins their (pet friendly) flat. Here goes nothing.

Getting the door open is a bit difficult, what with the puppy squirming about in her box, but he manages it in the end. Far from the graceful entrance he hoped before, he ends up stumbling inside, barely keeping upright while the puppy bursts into excited yapping and the door slams shut behind him. From upstairs come rapid footsteps, and then Carver appears at the top of the landing—beard freshly trimmed but hair wild, bare-chested and dressed in pyjama bottoms and with a towel still slung over his shoulders. He stares down at Felix and the box and the puppy, speechless.

“Er. Surprise?”

“Felix… _what_?” Apparently beyond further speech, Carver comes slowly down the stairs, unable to take his eyes off the little tableaux. Nervous, Felix busies himself with setting down the box and situating the puppy. She nibbles briefly at his fingertips but allows him to pick her up, heavy and squirming but eventually settling down against his chest to sniff at his beard. He meets Carver’s eyes, flushed with nerves.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before—it was kind of, um, spur of the moment…”

Carver examines the puppy, who is still licking frantically at Felix’s chin. “Did Bethy put you up to this?”

“I—um, not really. She approved the idea, though.”

“Of course she did.” His mouth is doing something complicated, like he can’t decide whether to be upset or overjoyed. Well, at least he’s not outright _angry_.

Then the puppy notices Carver. She whips her head around and strains toward him, sniffing wildly, and Felix steps forward until they’re toe-to-toe. She starts licking Carver’s bare chest immediately, paws working against Felix’s belly to try and further her reach; Carver snickers and pushes her snout away gently, and she proceeds to gnaw lightly on his fingers until he accedes to taking her into his arms. Her sharp little claws leave little indents in his skin, but he doesn’t flinch away, just holds her carefully, her bum propped securely against his forearm and his fingers rubbing at her soft, silky head. All the shock and annoyance has faded away, to be replaced with soft delight. Felix’s chest gives a little twinge. _He’s in love._

“What’s her name?” he asks quietly, watching as her energy begins to dwindle and her antics bleed into a happy, sleepy little snuggle against his chest.

“I thought we could do that together,” Felix says. “If you wanted to keep her, that is.”

Carver glances up at him. “What if I didn’t?”

“Cull and Dorian said they’d be able to take her. But…” And here he employs the same trick the puppy used on him before, a trick he’s become quite proficient at over the past few months, and stares up at Carver with his eyes widened slightly and his lower lip snagged between his teeth. “I really hoped you’d want to keep her.”

Carver closes his eyes. “God, what am I getting myself into.”

Felix grins and steps even closer, petting the puppy’s soft fur. She’s all but snoring now, exhausted from the exciting day she’s had, and her breaths puff out warm and moist against Carver’s collarbone. “Is that a yes?”

Carver sighs. “Dammit. Yes, of course it’s a _yes_.” He bows his head and kisses her little flappy ears. “God, she’s got that sweet puppy smell, still.”

Felix grins and buries his face in her fur. “What are we going to name her?”

**Author's Note:**

> The puppy Felix gets is a golden retriever, because that's my favorite breed and I'm a snob about it. Cullen's dog Mabs is also a golden. I haven't completely decided yet, but they're probably going to name her Scout, after my parent's dog (who we named after the main character in To Kill a Mockingbird). She will likely make an appearance in future oneshots and maybe even in the main fic. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
